Cyrene was seething.
The thought of being alone in her room debilitated her, and she made her way toward an open window to gaze out across the garden grounds. She tried to find composure from the Queen’s outburst, but none came to her.
Knowing that Maelia typically studied medicinal herbs this time of day, Cyrene skipped down the stairs in search of her friend. It was about time to clue her in on Cyrene’s plans.
After striding down a row of twelve-foot bushes, Cyrene came to a stop at the rustic metal gate blocking the entrance to the medicinal gardens. Her hands trembled as she unlatched the gate. She sighed before pulling it open, and she peered inside the garden looking for Maelia.
Her heart stopped when she saw the Prince first. What is he doing here?
She eased back out. The last person she wanted to run into when her temper was high was Prince Kael.
Narrowing her eyes, she looked past him and saw Maelia’s pale face staring up at him. Her face was a mask, but then again, it always was. A lump formed in Cyrene’s throat at the thought of the Prince trying any of his antics on her friend. Cyrene was a tempest ready to unleash at the drop of a hat, but Maelia was so timid. She obeyed authority like any militaristic Second. Cyrene would throw a fit if he used that to his advantage, and the man used everything to his advantage.
Whatever they were discussing had clearly come to a close, and before Cyrene knew it, Prince Kael was advancing directly toward her at the exit.
Taking the handle in his hand, the Prince wrenched the gate open. “Affiliate,” he said with a smile as he angled around her.
“Prince,” she murmured, holding back her rage.
He hadn’t done anything yet. She could handle this.
“Are you ready for the procession? On the King’s ship, no less.” A muscle twitched in his jaw.
He was jealous. She would have laughed at him if she wasn’t in such a wretched mood.
“I’m so fortunate.”
“I’d say my brother is the fortunate one.”
“He is the King.”
“I was right.” He took another step around her.
“About what?” She edged out of his way.
“That I wouldn’t be the only one courting you,” he responded with a smirk.
Her mind flashed back to her first night in the castle, and she shuddered. She couldn’t believe he was even bringing it up again.
“No one is courting me,” she responded through gritted teeth. “Least of all your brother.”
Prince Kael chuckled. He bridged the distance between them. Cyrene stood stiff, wanting nothing more than to wipe the smirk clear off his face.
“My brother was raised alongside me. He is a courtier through and through.” He softly ran his hand across her cheek. “You’ll do well to remember that.”
Cyrene turned her face away from him. “Good day, Prince Kael.”
“It always is when I see you,” he said as he strode away.
Cyrene forced herself to take a deep breath before entering the garden.
Maelia quickly turned around and broke into a smile. “Good to see you, Cyrene.”
“Did you see the Prince?”
“Yes, he was just in here,” Maelia said.
“What did he want?”
“He was discussing the procession with me,” she said.
“Why? I’ve never seen you two speak before.”
“Cyrene,” Maelia whined, turning back down to the garden, “please don’t make me say.”
“Oh, come on, Maelia.” Cyrene managed a smile. “You can tell me!”
Maelia shook her head from side to side, clearly debating with herself. “You cannot let him know.”
“I’ll never breathe a word of it,” she vowed.
“He was questioning how we got onto the King’s ship for the procession, but he told me not to tell you about it. He…he fancies you, Cyrene.”
Cyrene sighed. She had been more afraid that the Prince was going to press his luck with Maelia.
“I’m sorry he’s asking you questions. Did he pressure you in any way?” She hated asking, but she had to know.
“He…well, you know how he is. He puts me on edge, Cyrene. I don’t know why it upset me so.”
“I do,” Cyrene said. This was the moment. “The first night I was here, before you and I met, Prince Kael held me down against the wall and tried to take advantage of me in my chambers.”
Maelia gasped, staring up at Cyrene in horror.
“And when I forced him to stop, he didn’t back down, and he has been pursuing me ever since. I’ve told no one but you.”
Maelia reached out and grasped Cyrene’s hand. “He didn’t!”
Cyrene bit her lip and nodded.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. How…how vile!”
“I know. He’s never going to stop, and the Queen is worse.”
“The Queen?”
“She hates me, Maelia. She thinks I want to take over.”
“But you’ve never done anything to make her think that!” Maelia cried.
Cyrene glanced around the garden, making certain that no one else was listening. “Nothing, Maelia? With King Edric asking me for walks through the garden and Prince Kael chasing after me like a hound?”
“What are you going to do? You have something in mind. I can see it.”
And that was when Cyrene knew the Queen’s resolution about her performance, about her behavior, about her very existence in the castle didn’t matter. Nothing would stop her now.
“Yes, I have a plan.”
“Could we get in trouble?”
“Yes.”
“Is it worth it?”
Goose bumps broke out across her skin, and she swallowed. Is it worth it to leave everything on the whim of a peddler? Yet it felt like more than that. The book called to her. She needed to find out what it meant. She needed to know why she could see the words when no one else could. She needed to find out why he had gotten hysterical when she told him about it. It terrified her, but she couldn’t ignore it…even if a killer was on the loose.
“Yes,” Cyrene finally answered. “I need to leave the castle.”
“What?” Maelia asked. “There have been two deaths, and you want to leave the grounds?”
“Not the grounds. The country,” she whispered.
“Is this about Zorian and Leslin?”
“Partly. It’s complicated.” Cyrene sighed. “I just…do you trust me, Maelia?”
Maelia paused and then nodded. “Yes.”
“Then, know that I have to do this, and I’ll tell you everything as soon as I can,” Cyrene finally said.
“All right. I trust you,” Maelia said. “Whatever it is, I’m in.”
Cyrene heavily breathed out in relief and then began to fill Maelia in on her plan. With Maelia on board, this might actually work.
She left Maelia to finish packing and entered her rooms to make sure all preparations for the procession were close to completion. Her clothes had been properly folded and placed into traveling bags. Someone would come to take them to the boats soon enough.
A new package sat on her dresser. She cautiously took it in her hands. A note fell to the floor. She hastily retrieved it and saw the scrawled handwriting of her seamstress, Lady Cauthorn.
A smile broke out on her face. She tore into the brown paper and let the gold gown fall elegantly to her feet. It was exquisite in the same fashion as her Presenting ball gown but in a color fit for a Dremylon. Her fingers ran over the silky material. She didn’t imagine she would have anywhere to wear it on the procession and lamented leaving it behind.
After hanging up the dress, she retreated from her rooms and went in search of Reeve to ask about Aralyn. After she had first found out about Leslin, Aralyn hadn’t wanted any more visitors. The funeral for Leslin was tomorrow afternoon, and Cyrene hoped to speak with her after that.
Cyrene rushed to the High Order common rooms, anxious to see Reeve. A few minutes later, she found him in his room. The door was cracked open, and she raised her hand and knocked.
“Come on in,” Reeve called.
She peeked inside. “Hey.”
“Hey, Cyrene. What are you doing here?”
She bit her lip. “Just dropping by to ask about Aralyn.”
“You just missed her,” Reeve said. He shook his head. “She left for Kell this morning.”
Cyrene’s mouth dropped open. “She left already? She isn’t even staying for the funeral?”
“Yes, well, it’s Aralyn,” Reeve said.
Sometimes, she couldn’t understand her sister. She had thought that Aralyn would want closure on the loss of her friend, but instead, she’d just left as soon as she could. Then again isn’t that what I’m planning to do as well?
“I heard you’re on the procession.”
“I am,” Cyrene said, still surprised about Aralyn’s departure.
“And on the King’s ship.”
“Indeed.”
“What did you do to get there, Cyrene?” He took her elbow and drew her closer.
“Nothing.” She wrenched herself away from him.
He sighed. “Did you sleep with him?”
Cyrene sputtered, absolutely floored by the turn of the conversation. She had always been close to her brother. He had doted on her when she was younger. Not in a million years had she thought he would suspect her of such a thing.
“That is none of your business!”
“Cyrene, this is serious. I know how things are around here, but I can’t help you without answers.”
“I don’t need your help! I can’t believe you would think so lowly of me.”
“Everyone has seen you with him, and now, this. What do you expect?”
“I expected better from you,” she said before she turned and fled the room.
Cyrene left the High Order’s corridors at a jog, desperate to escape the pressing prison cell in which she found herself trapped. She broke through the nearest doors, heading out into an open courtyard. She stopped to catch her breath and ran a hand back through her tangled dark hair. The pathway reflected back at her in a glittering cracked glass prism, darting from white to yellow to orange and then red, purple, blue, and green.
The trail led to the stables. She walked down the pathway and through the stable doors. The motto carved into the entrance reminded her all too well of her warrior ceremony.
BELIEVE IN THOSE WHOSE HONOR DOTH SHINE.
Cyrene wandered over to her dapple, Ceffy, who whinnied at her approach. She stroked her nose and tried to forget everything that had happened recently.
“Come here often?” a voice sounded behind her, breaking her from her solitude.
She turned and saw Ahlvie walking toward her. He was unsteady on his feet, but his eyes were still alert.
“A little too often. I keep running into you, don’t I?”
Ahlvie smiled, holding out a brown leather wineskin. “You look like you might need this more than I do.”
She eyed it. “I’m guessing that’s not water.”
“What’s the fun in that?” He took a swig himself.
“I think I’ll pass.”
“Your loss.”
“I heard that they called you in for more questioning.” She returned her attention to Ceffy. “So, you might need it.”
“They don’t have anything on me, but it doesn’t keep them from banning me from leaving the premises.”
“Why do they think you did it this time?”
“Don’t you know?” he asked, pitching forward. “Leslin and I argued.”
“She obviously disliked you more than you disliked her though. I thought that was clear,” Cyrene said.
“Yeah, well, go tell them that.” He thrust his hand out at the castle and shrugged.
“So, if you are banned from leaving, then you’re not going on the procession?” she asked.
“Nah. I wasn’t going anyway. Byern is better without court, but now, I can’t even leave the castle to enjoy myself.” His eyes twinkled mischievously.
She doubted they could keep him locked inside.
“Don’t you ever want to just be free of all of this?” she asked.
Their eyes met, and for a second, it was almost as if he understood something about her that she didn’t even have to speak aloud.
“More than anything.”
“Then, I’d find a way to get on procession.”